Les Deux Pierrots
by Be'Reshit
Summary: A Night dedicated to forgetting and celebrating leads to renuions, questions, and closure for one Windrider.
1. Sunglasses at Night

A/N: Been on sabbatical working out how I want to plan the direction of _Arrival and the Reunion,_since at this point there is already four versions of the next installment. (Yes, that would be indecision at it's finest.) While that menace is waiting to come to fruition, I have started this little adventure. It's only planned to be few chapters, nothing deep and involving, but then we'll see where it goes. Reviews, Reviews Reviews as it will be my fuel to continue! So please drop me one.

Read enjoy, and remember.... Marvel owns our souls. Er, I mean creative rights.

* * *

"I don't know how you talk me into these things."

Storm touched down to tighten the buckle on her boots after giving Remy a sideways glance. They were standing on the handle of a crowded sidewalk while the neon lights in French basked above. Remy wore a mischievous expression, raking his eyes over Ororo as she finally came up to a complete vertical base.

"Because Stormy knows she wants it. Don' act like she aint gon' enjoy herself."

Ororo caught his eye-over. "As much as you enjoyed staring at my ass, right?"

Remy bit down on the excitement of her words. "Can't mess wit' perfection, Chere."

Ororo laughed a hearty laugh playfully punching him in the shoulder. "I give up."

"Dat be smart. By de looks of it, Remy be fightin' off every _homme _you breeze past t'nite, non?"

And man was she looking dangerous!  
A tube top was her only cover from the see-through mesh material that started at her collarbone and ended to reveal a wealth of taunt and toned abs that screamed _femme fatale_. Even more, she had those leather pants that clung to hips seemingly made for rockin; thick yet lean and curved in all right places. Her combat boots extended to the knee, zipped with silver buckles up the side. Although they were flat, the thick heal still added ad-least two more inches to her tall frame easily putting her right at eye level with Remy. He didn't mind, for it meant her cobalt eyes highlighted with kohl were more assessable a sight.

All the black contrasted well with her snow-laden hair half-braided and beaded with turquoise and hematite colours that faded into loose tresses. Alongside other accessories; a silver bracelet snaked around the upper arm, silver and gold bangles on each wrist, intricate middle eastern styled chandelier earrings that lightly brushed the top of her shoulders and a striking centerpiece of a necklace in silver and turquoise workmanship. (Most likely a gift from what's his face.)  
Her caramel skin was beaming under the lights. It complimented her goddess features well with the kick ass element he knew his Stormy to possess.  
Man what a gorgeous belle!

"Well, they can beat it. I'm not here to find _men. _I've got one already," Ororo said confidently.

Remy grimaced at the thought of her _man. _No, he didn't like her _her man _in the least. Almost sensing his angst, she took his arm in his yanking it playfully.

"Which would be you tonight. It's been too long since I've spent time with my brother, one of my best friends. So stop being a lush. You managed to snag me away now tell me what's on the agenda. I'm sure you know this town better then I do."

"Well enough, I guess." His eyes shined their ebony on crimson.  
"Remy missed his Stormy so much."

Although she detested that nickname he seemed so adamant about pinning to her years ago, it was presently touching. She leaned into the sleeve of his blazer briefly smelling the scent of musk and cologne before pulling away. Remy found himself smiling all over, his other hand caressing her elbow. They were innocent gestures, although bi-standers would have probably thought otherwise. But here in this town, they passed over without a second thought. Maybe that was another extension of why he liked it so much. Everyone minded their own and no-one was out to be a busy-body. For the more eccentric you looked, it just meant you were a living, breathing art-piece made to be admired, not ridiculed. Everyone was laid back, teeming with appreciation for the simple things in life. It was a pace he could get used to.

They held hands while merging into the melting pot of cultures that made up the crowd. It approached ten PM as most of the clubs, bars, pubs, cafes, bistros and restaurants came to life. Vendors were on the sides of the road offering their wares, and from one African kiosk, smells of patchouli, sandalwood and Egyptian musk filled the air. It mingled with spices, sweet and sharp alongside the hum of acoustic guitars and singing of light folk songs. And briefly, it reminded her of _Masr il'adeema_, or Old Cairo. The workings of the bazaars were always enigmatic and smells were many, especially that of musks and exotic scents and animals brought to the _midaan_.

While Remy had stopped at one vendor and purchased a batch of fresh roasted chestnuts, Ororo found herself drawn to another with handmade jewelry. Most was in gold, some in silver alongside precious stones. Emeralds, tourmaline, topaz and sapphires. To quartz, rubies, even jade. What caught her eye though had been something she swore an oath to the goddess she'd seen before. She paused lost in thoughts and memories about how it could have gotten here.

_"Bosoin l'aide, maddam?"_

Ororo popped out of her trance at the woman before her. Although it was dark, the woman wore sunglasses. It put a whole new meaning to that silly song from the 80's, Ororo thought. Even though she understood French well enough from having resided with Remy in New Orleans for some time, she decided to reply in English.

"Yes, you could help me."

Almost immediately, Ororo could picked up the woman's careful strides. It was then she wished she could see the expression in her eyes. For the eyes were a dead giveaway to the soul. A focal point to explaining things without the use of words. Without that luxury she settled on other features, like her similar dark skin and the scarf that concealed her head. Her clothes were very Bohemian and loose with bracelets of hemp, and beads, alongside some necklaces it seemed she took from her own private stock. Elegant, and artistic.

"This pendant here...." Ororo pointed in the far corner of the glass case to a round sculpted silver and jade trinket.

Without much of a hesitation, the woman bolted in surprise and took it from the case.

"All ap'ol'gees, miss dis one shouldn't have been they'er. They got mix up, zats all. But if they'er's an'nathin' elze, I will be pleazed to help."

Ororo crinkled a nose at the strange dialect. She spoke French but with another accent. And to her, it was no mystery of the other origin.

"Your from Egypt." It was half a question but more a statement.

" Iz my accent dat crude?"

Well damn.  
It wasn't meant to be a insult but she sure had taken it like one. The effect came off chafing, something Ororo didn't mean - like calling a Japanese person Chinese or disputing the fact tomato was pronounced tomato instead of To'mau'to. Either way, never a good thing. But still - something about it irked her. Although it had been years since she left Egypt, she could have bet money on the certainty of_ that_ Arabic dialect.  
It had a distinct sound, ring, not that of Moroccan for sure, but then again maybe it was Algerian. _Definitely_ North African, she pegged.  
Goddess she was obsessing hard but it didn't help the only piece of jewelry she gleaned an interest in was one that had been disheveled without a second thought.  
She lowered a snowy-white eyebrow and forced herself to drop it. There was no need to cast stones over doubts or misplaced pride. But she highly doubted she had made any type of error. If anything, she was hiting a bullseyes, right on the money. Something was more then odd about the woman who hide all her features.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to offend you. It just looks like something I've seen before. But it was many years ago..." Her eyes were the deepest of blue.

"Couldn't be the same I guess."

And at that, Remy walked up, munching on the goodness that was fresh roasted chestnuts. He snaked a hand around her waste squeezing her to him unaware of everything.

"Der you are, Chere. Remy was gettin worried. Cant run off wid'out telling 'em. He think you been taken away by some ada man."

He smiled suggestively and she returned the gesture weakly still eying the woman with those ridiculous sunglasses.  
_Stop judging,_she co-arsed herself.

"Remy got dis place we go, Chere. Ready to start dis t'ing?"

She put the incident in the back of her mind, all focus on whatever Remy had planned. It couldn't have been anyway. Wishful thinking.

"Lead the way, handsome."

And with Remy was all smirks and suggestions, pulling her into the sea of party-goers and down Old Montreal's streets.

The woman of mystery looked on at Ororo's retreating figure finally shedding her glasses as another walked up. The new woman wore a pleasant face with a long plait cascading over one shoulder. Although nothing was said immediately, her almond coloured eyes settled over the _balfsje _of the dark _sitt. _Interchange wasn't needed for her to realize something like the moving of space had occurred. And she was sure it involved the previous white-haired woman from minutes ago.

"Why don't you go. I got this."

And with that admonition, she departed her booth and laid claim to becoming part of the crowd.


	2. Things Long Ago

_**A/N - Some Arabic words, places and phrases are mentioned in this installment. Here's a Quick breakdown of some meanings.  
**_

_**~Massa Ilkheir - Good Afternoon.  
**__**~Ana 'Andi Hags hina - I have a reservation here.  
~Ou'da Nimra sabbah ~ Room Number seven  
~Shukran - Thank you  
~Assalaam Alieikum - Welcome or Peace be with you  
**__**~Sayyid - Sir  
~Shisha - Hookah  
~Aywa - Yes  
~ Tayyib - Okay  
~Midaans - Square**_

_**Also: Mild Language and Drug References are mentioned in this installment. Heads up.**_

_*****************************************************************************_

_**Not to distant past.  
**__**El Qahira Masr - Cairo, Egypt**_

_"Massa' ilkheir. 'Ana David Munroe. 'Ana 'andi Hags hina."_

_The short man standing behind the reservation desk with a taut mustache nodded assuredly. After the tall distinguished and dark skinned gentlemen handed him a passport and credit card as usual procedure for foreign visits go, the ensuing transaction began. After a few seconds as it reached completion, he man handed over a key sparing a few glances at the woman beside him; white-tressed tall and speaking something in English. She held the hand of a child no more then three or four who had apparently inherited the same unique genes._

_"'Ou'da nimra sabbah, Sayyid."_

_"Shukran." David admonished taking his things back. There was no misgivings when the reservationist nodded his head and returned in kind._

_"Assaalam Alieikum. Your Arabic is good sayyid Munroe and I hope Ad'Badan will meet to satisfaction. Amir take bags to il'room.... New York?"_

_David paused briefly watching the bellboy youth take their bags followed by his wife toward the staircase._

_"Yes. And your English is not bad either."_

_Arching an eyebrow, he waited for what would come next. He smiled a faint smile._

_"It's a good city."_

_And without any other word, he ended the impromptu conversion but not before leaning in, his obsidian eyes glaring in worry at the woman and child again handing him a pamphlet, complete in four languages._

_"Information. Metro, Taksi's, Buses, Restaurants, Cinema, theatre, cafes, midaans, genuine tour guides and the rest. Helpful things to have while in Masr. Though I would highly advice to keep il'curfews."_

_Israel's latest aggressive maneuvers on the Gaza strip. It was why he emphasized 'keeping curfews'. Pockets of Islamic resistance had been springing up all around the city opposing anything with a western stamp and if the shouts of "Israel Burn!" "Western-pig scum burn!" were any indication, David took the advice with an appreciative nod.  
But he also accepted the assignment of archiving Egypt's latest find weeks before trouble started re-brewing. Being a prominent photo-journalist currently under contract with National Geographic with the honour of uncovering rare gifts the world offered, (the most precious being a princess from Kenya that became his wife nearly four years ago), he also knew of dangers it could include. Not that David Munroe didn't know a thing or two about survival ( he did grow up Black, poor and in Harlem), but now he had a family to worry about. A cloud of apprehension settled over him._

_"I'm aware. Thank you."_

_And with that he made his way to the stairwell taking his young daughter into his arms. She smiled a bouncing smile. _

_" You take me to see the pyramids, daddy?" She was a little too smart for her only four years._

_"We'll see but remember what we talked about? Arabic now."_

_She tugged onto his shirt sleeve meeting his eye._

_"Aywa."_

_**Present.  
Quebec. 11:02PM**_

Ororo found herself pulsing against the wall of smoke that streamlined in her direction as the silent memory came to a close.  
The atmosphere was all out ambiance as she took another sip of chai tea and turned to Remy, who finished a long hit letting the sweet scent of _Mas'al _enter his lungs. He closed his eyes inhaling deeply as his head shimmied in motion to the stringed instrumentation and smooth French vocals that ran the sound system. It was a seductive number by the Middle Eastern singer, _Natacha Atlas_. Ororo recognized her vocals immediately from the more then thirty songs stashed on her IPOD and seasons of dancing around her greenhouse during rare bouts of downtime. Hearing it outside of headphones was nice for a change as she mused to herself and a deft smile surfaced.

Remy, who sauntered on in his state of bliss, was working on pulling in another drag from the mouthpiece.

"I must say, when you said 'I have dis place we go,' " She mocked playfully in his accent watching him pull the hose away again meeting her at eye level, "I didn't expect this."

Remy smiled that devilish and charming smile that belonged to him only. " What can be said _Padnat_? Remy fulla' surprises."

It was a most true statement. A Hookah Lounge on the outskirts of Old Montreal was the last place she expected him to take her. A nightclub, yeah. A casino, well duh; the man was codenamed Gambit and shot the Ace of Spades out his sleeves as natural as it was to breath. But she never would have guessed him to settle on a laid back _shisha _lounge.

While Ororo seemed to come off as the ideal picture of health awareness to those who knew her, it was no mystery she was just as big a sensualist. Why else for midnight flights in the buff? Or the expense of Egyptian cotton and silk bedsheets? Or the arduous work of keeping Orchids year round in a climate that readily agrees with it? All came down to pleasing the senses. Smoking _shisha _had been in the same realm; an extension of social and aesthetic pleasure. Of course, teaching, leading and living at a school where you are suppose to be setting the example required sacrifice and in her instance, putting all proverbial forms of the bong away. Maybe that decision continued to carry over since she turned down the hookah Remy tried to pass to her and settled on sucking up some more tea instead. Amused all the same, she recalled meeting with the _shisha _at age seven in the bazaars near _Salah Salam Street. _Maybe if it was _hashish_ in that pipe rather then honey-simmered tobacco, she'd be eating her good morals right now.

Ororo sighed. Ever since stepping foot in Montreal, from the sounds to the smells and then the sights, everything had become a beacon reminding her of onerous times from long ago. Memories. Recollections. That woman with her crowned jewels concealed in dark sunglasses lying about where she came from didn't nothing to help matters. Goddess have a mind on what that was about... The short interlude still pulled at her, definitely unfinished and most definitely unresolved. Signs clamored to a revelation being had before the night was out and Ororo tried to poise herself for when that eventuality was met. Instead, more of the spiced chai tea made it to her lips; she was nearly done with the thing. If only her anxieties would dissipate as easy as the fluid that rode down her throat did...

Sensing the drop in good spirits, Remy returned the _shisha_ to the middle of the table with a careful eye on his beloved _Padnat. _He hoped that getting Ororo out of that god forsaken maze of emotionally charged teenagers with never-ending responsibilities and eventually out of the country for one night would help to wash away ad least some tensions. No Dice. Apparently all his forethought of taking her somewhere she'd enjoy had come crashing down as nothing more then a bad idea. It reminded him of why he didn't think twice, instincts were always a better gauge. He should have just gone with that casino on the other side of town.... but now he was determined to find out what was simmering in those Cerulean depths.

"Dis good. Be better hash thou'...."

She mustered a soft grin under the dim candles that lit the lounge. Remy felt a surge of accomplishment at that. The 'not thinking' strategy was working.

"I might tend to agree with you and if you repeat that to anyone, I just might have your head. I've got a reputation to protect."

Remy laughed heartily.

" Ah yes, some'tin bout bein' da supreme goddess _non_? But don' t'ink fer a second Remy's forgotten how ya hit it in da' _Bayou_. You could put da' most devout _Rastafarians_ ta shame, _chere_. And maybe I keep yer secret at a price, _non_?"

"How does successfully avoiding twelve thousand watts up the ass sound for a tiebreaker?"

"Dangerous. Do it come wit' a.... satisfaction guarantee?"

Well, ad least Remy wasnt homophobic. She settled in short stouts of chuckle, "Hardly..."

"Den yer' open to liabilities, _chere_. T'ink of some'tin better ta' buy dis Cajun's silence."

Ororo pondered over other choices of blackmail. Apparently torture, pain and the threat of death wasn't doing it. Ah, there. She found it.

"I'll spill the secret on your _Britney Spears_ obsession to everyone. What is it? Something about supporting local Louisianians? So help me god...."

"Like da' lot would believe dat......" he sounded confident but Ororo knew better, continuing on as if he hadn't pronounced assurance.

"The CDs, the daydreams, tickets for her _Circus_ tour...."

"Wha?!!!!" He squealed as if someone just gave him a nipple twister followed by a wet willy. "Remy would never..."

"Of course not. Just a matter of laundry day, your blazer, inside pocket sweep......"

"_Merde......_"

"Your slipping, bro. Maybe her music is killing your brain cells?"

Remy grumbled in defeat. Ororo felt the rush of satisfaction.

"Dats evil, _chere_. _Low_."

" So now that I got your silence....." she bristled on ignoring him, "Remember the time in _La Bearodox_ we jacked that _70' Chevy Camaro Z28 _Chrome and black? Goddess she rode like a dream....." Ororo's sloshed over dreamily at her felonious past crimes.  
"We lived like royality for a month on that one."

Remy bounced back from the threat of _Spears_ as he hoped the talk of degenerate things might wipe out the last discovery.  
"_Oui...._an' da _66' El Camino_ stint in _Houma_....."

Ororo laughed throwing her arms around him."Yeah, almost got slammed for that one. _Almost ."_

"_Golden Meadow_, _'74 Corvette..."_

_"Leeville, 69' Pontiac GTO Judge.."_

_"Galliano, 67' Ford Cobra..." _

_"Fausee Pointe, 67' Porshe 812..."_

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. " 67' was a good year."

He looked down at her in reverence, his arm snaking at her back.  
"_Oui, _it was. Maybe next trip we take will be home. Jean-Luc would love ta see you _chere_. Though getting ya to come wit' me t'night was like fightin' fire'n' brimstone."

Another sigh.

"I know. I'm a sour puss. Proverbial work mule. A sadist under duty. The world needs saving...sign me up..blah... blah.. blah....."

His fingers stroked tenderly at her side as her eyes fluttered in contentment.

"Admitting da' problem is first....." She pinched his the nape of his neck. "Your evil, _chere_. What's wit' da' violence t'night?"

"Enjoying your folly. Enjoying you." She looked up with a warm inviting smile. "I've missed you."

"And I you, _bella_."

A silence passed between them for a few minutes as they both basked in each others presence. Ororo couldn't recall why she and Remy never officially got together. He was nothing but gorgeous: auburn tresses that nearly glowed black under low-lights, mysterious crimson eyes only agate to little black and all framed with those thick luscious eyelashes. Skin rough yet smooth, deep yet tan and although his trench-coats and blazers hid his body, she'd seen enough of this taut and muscled frame to know it was a thing of beauty. And then there was his personality, sleek and flirtatious, something she usually couldn't stand on any other testosterone driven male, but on him, it just worked.  
And of course the love for old cars; the talent for boosting them, the history of thieving to survive......no-one quite understood her like he did, and Remy never tried. It was second nature; for all she had to do was crinkle a lip, arch an eyebrow, or avert her eyes for him to know exactly what was on her mind. They were two sides to the same coin. Ying to Yang, light and dark....literally.

And that was the reason they would never be together, Ororo concluded: Remy was family. Lovers were bound to appear, put your hopes up, have you sore then crush it all into the ether. And in the end when all was said and done, he would be there, putting the fragile pieces back together. A brother for the ages; a blessing from the Goddess........not many people could claim to have what she had. It warmed her stomach, until reality sank back in.

"Whats da' matter?"

There it was again, his _knowing_. He couldn't have possibly seen the crinkle of her lip from that position.

"Just thinking is all..."

"Shouldn't do dat."

"What thinking?"

"Oui. Just say it n'stead. Comes out better."

"Well..."

"Don' hesitate, _Chere_. _Say it_."

There was a silence for a time before Remy saw her eyes retreating to melancholy once again. Her eyes fixated on the _shisha_ sitting on the table.

"Remy sorry if dis bring up bad mem'ries. If you wanna go, just say da word. Dis be yer night."

Ororo took another swig of now lukewarm Chai finishing it off.

"You know, _this _isn't cutting it."

"K, we go 'den."

"I want some _Turkish Coffee_."

With that she broke their intimate bond and moved from the rug they say on.

Remy made a face. "I could neva' unda'stand dat' black mess on dregs as bein' good...."

She grinned in reprise. "Many would say the same thing about your crawfish surprise..."

"Dey all be tasteless bastards."

She kissed him on the forehead before standing.

"Money please?"

Remy handed off a bill and before reaching the bar she could see he had resumed another drag on the _shisha_. Of all his pleasantries, the man was a walking chimney. A few minutes later, Ororo waited for her brew to be had as she tapped her hand on counter top. It was a polished wood, most likely mahogany. Here goes nothing.

"I know you've been following me and I neither like being lied or trailed. Care to tell me who you are before I fry your ass?"

It was a simple enough request. A silhouette moved to the bar by her side. Ororo had felt the lingering presence minutes after entering the lounge but chose only now to confront it. It was something about revelations being had..... yeah. Something like that.

"Well when you put it that way....."

Ororo finally looked up. She was greeted with the same dark skinned woman from the streets as expected, but this time with more liberties. Her scarf was cast aside to reveal well groomed dreads that extended past her mid-arm and emblazoned a copper tone off the candle flames. Also gone was those ridiculous glasses leaving her eyes subject to view. The eyes. Ah, the one feature that gave passage to person's being. And by the Goddess they were the brightest-yet-darkest hue of _Blafsje_, or violet she had seen. A fellow mutant perhaps? Contacts maybe? The lighting magnified them to enigmatic heights.

"Do I know you?...." Ororo sprang her own bright blue orbs on her. Okay it wasn't the best opening statement, but she was going with 'Remy logic'. _Just say it._

"Maybe. Maybe not. But we can change that."

"Your from Cairo. I know that."

"_Aywa_. That I am."

Well good she came to terms with that. Now for the next question.

"Then why lie about it if I might not know you? And how are you speaking almost perfect English now..."

There was a pause before the woman answered. Her accent was still there, but nowhere near as heavy as it was on the street corner. Her enunciation, nearly perfect.

"Instinct to not believe at first. To think you've gone through life so long that closure would never come......Maybe those things and more."

Ororo felt a prickle of sensation at her logic. _Exactly how I feel on many levels. _Who was this?

"Been running long, Ororo? Sometimes one gets sick of it. "

Ororo paused, shock and awe setting in. _She knew her name. _Impossible, or was it a possibility? She began to think. _Where and How could she know me? _Was it one of Farouk's other novices? Encounters in _midaans_ of _Bolaq_? _El Wayli _market places? _El Saiyida Zeinab_ Baazars? _Nile_ boat-hoisting? _City of the Dead_ escapades? _Geziret El Roda, Badran_? _Abdin_? _Giza, Pyramid Road_? _Imbada_? The crowded tenamants in _Shubra_? Her mind flashed like a well organized database, but was hard to pull up anything in all the stones of _El Qahira _she had tread. She looked no older then Ororo's late twenties, or maybe pushing thirty. The only thing still pulling a faint picture in mind was those eyes, those violet eyes.

"Who are you?"

Somewhere among that scenario, she looked down to see her _Turkish coffee_had arrived, and felt the need to take a drag of it. Maybe the caffeine might pump her memory. With eager interest, she met the woman again, who was staring as if she was nothing more then transparent; her palms propped holding her head up in utter boredom. She fluttered her long dark eyelashes as a cloud of smoke moved in from behind her and with it, Remy Lebeau.

"Stormy makes friends an' don' introduce 'em. Dat's not polite, _chere_. " His voice was playfully sarcastic while his eyes betrayed a careful approach calculating a mental assessment of the woman sitting next to Ororo. She looked serene, but he lived and saw enough to know looks were deceiving.

"Your just in time, Remy. She was about to disclose that information to me as well."

The woman darted her gaze between them both before settling on Ororo once again.

"You really don't recall?"

"If I did I wouldn't be asking now would I?"

"It was a terrible day. Maybe your mind just censored it....but somehow, you still remembered this.."

The woman pulled out the necklace from under her flowing chiffon collar. Jade, gold and silver. Interlooping hooks, intricate designs around the rims. Ororo faded from this world as another flash-black penetrated. _El Gezira. She was eight. Farouk sent her in to rip off some Persian oil tycoon. While she a made out with a large amount of currency, her bounty was a trinket stashed deep in the folds of his coat....  
_Nothing fit. The necklace and her presence were two separate memories.

"That was years ago and I don't recall you." she protested. "And my patience is wearing thin. Tell me who you are, _now_."

"So that makes all the difference in the world that it was 'years ago' and taking things that aren't yours is just _taaayyyyib_, non?"

The woman rose to meet her eye level, unabashed anger swelling in her chest as she breathed in and out. What was she really _on _about? So Ororo stole from a rich man. It wasn't like they spent money on holier worthwhile things - hell she'd seen god-awful wealthy Saudis and Iranians easily waste thousands of pounds to a dancers garter. It wasn't like she struck them down in cold blood. She leveled her reasoning either way.

"No. It doesnt. " Her voice dropped a few octaves, "But neither does dictating a person's character now from what they did twenty years ago as a child."

There was spark of irritation in her tone indicating a fine line was being tread. Remy watched the heat bellow in her eyes and hoped the stranger was smart enough to see it as well.

"Of course, then. So I guess stealing cars gets your kicks on now, doesn't it?" _Blast. _

"_It did_, not so much anymore."

"Maybe the name _Ad'Badan_ sounds familiar...."

And that it did. Click. Ding. Revelation number one. Ororo felt herself slipping from right under her own feet.

"_Allah_ have mercy..."

"What, Chere?"

"_YHWH _have mercy..."

"What?"

"Goddess have mercy...."

Remy put a hand on her shoulder trying to steady her.

"I am guessing that means you remember now?"

"What she talkin' about?"

Ororo clamored for a seat as she took in the newly disposed information. Now wasn't a good time to be jerking with her fragile mind.  
Suddenly things went grey, the room decided to spin between clouds of smoke, senses filtered below and the abyss descended down.  
Revelations it would be. Remy caught Ororo in his arms right before she hit the back of the bar top.  
Gently cupping her to him, he turned back to the stranger.

"What demons you bring on her, _femme_?"

"Nothing more then I've endured." Her octave was low and something about it's matter held a haunting memento. A loss. A deep loss.

Without a word, she headed out of the lounge. He watched her disappear through the door, pondering what the hell was going on before making haste himself as an audience started to form at the drama. A few minutes later found him well enough down the street and on a bench with Ororo's head cradled in his lap. Light slaps were administered to get her conscience again. So much for his stormy getting decent night off. Drama seemed to follow her wherever she went.

"Stormy? Come ta Remy."

His words were soft encouragement as her eyes fluttered ever so lightly. He ran his amble fingers down the side of her cheek as she came back to the land of the living. She looked up to see Remy's red on black eyes staring down at her.

"Remy?"

"Hush, padnat. So'k."

She blinked furiously.

"I just had this bad trip..."

"Really? Tell Remy bout it."

"Someone from my past surfaced..."

"_Oui_? Who,_chere_?"

"Someone......"

"Really?"

Ororo wiped off her daze, pulling herself from Remy's lap. People passed idly by on a street corner with neon signs. She slapped her forehead in retort.

"Oh god. It wasn't a trip."

"Non. And Stormy didn't even smoke da' _shisha_..."

"Do shut up. Where did she go?"

"Not sure. But anyone who would make my Stormy black out isn't good company. Remy don' like seeing you stress."

"Its not about my well being now. We need to find that woman. Where did she go?"

She roused herself from the bench pacing the small strip, turning in every direction.

"Remy didn't see."

"God.."

Ororo sat down in defeat, shielding her face to her palms. Remy sat in touching support next to her, an arm extending.

"Tell Remy what's goin on....."

He felt a her tighten at the thought.

"It's vague...." Ororo struggled, stopping momentarily before continuing. "And I don't remember..... But, she said something about the _Ad'Badan_ name."

Remy held a silence for a space of minutes. She eventually readjusted her gaze to fixate on him before continuing.

"_Ad'Badan_ was the hotel my parents stayed at...... and the place they died........ along with the hotel staff and thirty other people."

Remy's eyes narrowed. "Da Bombing?"

"There was a bombing......" her head lowered. It had _shame_ written all over it.

"But the bombing isn't what killed them.......I did."


	3. Tempest upon the Ash

_**A/N:**_

_Thanks for the reviews._  
Glad everyone is enjoying the story. I have been working on this the past week and hope it is up to par with the last two installments.  
Although it is officially the last chapter, I do have an epilogue planned. I still feel the need for a little more _closure _with Ororo and friends.  
Again, everyone enjoy... and comments are more then welcomed, always!

_Quick Glossary_  
There's not much foreign language mentioned in this chapter, only a few _French_ phrases.  
_- C'est Quoi_ - Basically a term asking What, or what do you mean?  
And then there is Remy's infamous words in circulation:  
_-Merde - meaning Shit, or crap  
-Homme - Man_  
_-Femme - Female  
_(_Arabic_)  
-_El Qahira_ - Cairo  
_-Aywa_ -yes  
_-Shurbra and El Gezira_ are places in Cairo, nothing more.  
(_Hebrew_)  
-_Adonai _- God, Lord Almighty.

_As for some questions_ posed, **_Happy,_** I left the meaning of _Les Deux Pierrots_ open since it will be explained in this chapter.

And for **_Babyblue _**- wanting to know if I am I am Arab - no. (I'm mixed- African American, Native American, Roma Gypsy, and Bohemian - now Czech - if your curious) but do speak a little Arabic for religious and work related reasons. Needless to say, I find it neat there are others who have taken an interest in learning such a gorgeous language! All the best with it! Ororo's past in Cairo gave me a reason to use the little skills of Arabic I have on a literary front and I'm glad it opened up some new ideas for you too. :)

_**Disclaimer:**_ Heads up, the "F" bomb is dropped a few times.... other then that.... were good. Also, _**Ash **_and **_Lee_** are original characters, but _**Marvel**_ still owns the mother-load...

*************************************************************************

Remy took in the knots of frustration crunching on his sister's face.

"I killed them. Death-the opposite of life. Death - a void to living. Death - the finality of which is proven to end the existence we know....."  
Ororo took in each reaffirmation punishing herself forty strokes less one.  
"They might have had a chance at life, elusive life......."She trailed dangerously low.

Remy sighed. He hated when she succumbed to torment over matters that were set in stone; buried then forced a resurrection. But even worse, he knew a haunting; the fragments and nightmares that tapered on fringes of ones existence. In the wake, all penance once served is rebuked, the veil of understanding- torn away. God knows he had his fair share of _that _darkness. But he was a delinquent, and in turn kept pressing the fates that made his demons. Ororo didn't. Her situation was being cornered into a chaos she had no choice over.

"I'm a murderer..." God _he hated when she got like this._

"Den' strike me dead."

"Not before I fry myself..." _Really didn't like it._

"Da order is murder den suicide. For a killer, you sure got it all backwards, _chere_."

"You wouldn't be saying that if I wiped papa Jean off the map because I was having a bad day. I'm a walking weapon for fuck sake Remy...."

She smothered her face into her palms. Disconcerting thoughts spreading. "I should be put down..."

"Dats' it _Chere_."

"Whats 'it'?" her voice echoed in detachment as fingers wracked through white locks.

" Puttin' ya down. Wit you gone da' world is now guaranteed ta be destroyed by _Apocalypse _rada' then anada ice age. Ad least someone will stick around to admire their handy-work."

She looked up a turn, sighing inwardly.

"Passion or none - it doesn't change the fact I'm a walking weapon----"

"_Da Wolverine_ and _Omega Red_ are walkin' weapons, _chere_. You just a _femme _born wit' amazing attributes. So dun be scarin' a _homme _wit dis commando _kamikaze _rant. You be one of the most noble souls Remy has ever known, loyal an' upright - hell, dis world is lucky you grace much less try an' save it on a daily basis. _Fuck _it -if I gotta pull you back from talkin' like dis den someones gonna pay. It just tears in me somet'in fierce to see you like dis."

Ororo found herself refusing to make eye contact with the sense he uttered as she rose from the bench, and started pacing the street corner boring holes into the concrete. Her head pulsed; the sheer layer of semblance being ripped away and replenished with a big fat migraine; the same type that used to trash her room in the middle of the night or send a random tree thrashing into the boathouse.  
The kind Xavier had used psychic inhibitors to block.

From the time she asked _Allah for his mercy, _she knew the inhibitor had been shredded. Instead of the floating driftwood of memories, she was being battered with the raw power of truth; screams pounding at her skull, bloodied knuckles, pressure and fire at her skin, debris slicing her legs, and choking on the smoke that assaulted her to a black out.  
She started to spin, faintly hearing a caveat coming from Remy as she slammed into something solid.

A hand brushed past her arm, settling there. Ororo felt a shock rib her body that send the strangers fingertips retreating. It was at the beginning of a gelid drizzle that her migraine downgraded to headache status so she could take in the source of the collision.

"I'm sorry," Ororo responded weakly. "I didnt mean to mow you over."

Without a word, a pair of honey coloured eyes framed in olive skin met her. As the rain began to roll down in thick drops, some collected at the rim of the hood she wore. Silence emitted, followed by an intense staring session. After a few strides, Ororo smacked her ignorance realizing the woman probably spoke _French _and didn't understand a word. Even still, it was no reason to gawk like she had grown two heads or something.

"_Je suis desole_." She managed.

A serene expression surfaced. She pointed down the road as she muttered.

"_Les Deux Pierrots_."

Ororo raised an eyebrow as the woman repeated her admonition.

"_Les Deux Pierrots_."

"_C'est Quoi_?"

She just pointed wiping the rain from her hood before trudging down the street. Ororo stared at her retreating form for a few minutes before facing Remy. He had taken in the exchange with downcast eyes and a look of light annoyance.

"_The Two Sparrows_?"

"It's a pub down _St. Paul Est_," he admonished. Nothing else was said as Ororo started her immediate decent down the foot-way, each step ridden with determination.

"_Damn it_...." he mumbled under his breath before bolting up to meet her pace, "Wait up...."

He splashed through puddles letting out a few more curses.

"_Merde_, my boots. Can't you ad-least turn off da' rain, _Chere_?"

If looks spoke volumes.....

"Okay. Okay. Remy deal wit da' rain....But 'Roro, you even know what your walkin' into? I don' t'ink dis a good idea... " he retorted without effect as she kept her brisk speed.

" I'm walking into hell, Remy. The inhibitors are gone."

Her tone was mater of fact; a little too under-passionate for the announcement she just uttered and Remy felt a chill go through his body. Frigid and slushy rain had nothing to do with it. _Inhibitors gone? Oh shit._

He intercepted, hands restraining her shoulders giving a nudge for emphasis.

"_Woah_, Chere. Dis ain't a good idea."

"Probably not, but too late for that. I've gotta find out...." Her eyes were lining over white as electrical currents radiating from her skin made him jolt back. Remy smacked his hand against the other from the shock he received.

"_Jesus, chere_. Who is da _femme_?"

It was only then she stopped of her own accord, eyes downcast and unreadable. The rain rolled off her braided hair, catching on her eyelashes as she ignored it.

"I remember my daddy taking me into his arms as I asked to see the pyramids and him saying to me 'we'll see.' Then he put me down, handed the hotel key to my mother and said he would be up shortly...." At that her eyes met his before continuing, "Next, I lay suffocating under a pile of rubble with my mother wheezing at my side. I couldn't recall anything else - the trip up the elevator, the point when the lobby was bombed, or how the hell I got out alive.... Until a few minutes ago..."

Silence.

"I remembered her, Remy. Those eyes....she was different. Like me.... We were coming out of the elevator, she was going down. I never recalled that before... It must have been hidden under my panic, my mind blocking out the memory.. or maybe the inhibitors... maybe a mix of everything for the sake of survival and sanity.....I struggled with both ever since.... but she reminded me..... brought it back. I remembered her... I remembered those eyes....."

Remy stood in silence, his expression etched with concern.

"It was nearly five minutes after a massive piece of glass flew in and severed my mother's hand. I had no time to react for I was already being buried under debris. But as smoke from the flames scorched the little breathing air had, I could hear screams and whimpers, coughing and wheezing. _N'Dare _calling my name, my dad's name... chanting prayers in Swahili....."  
A tear escaped mingling with the steady drops.

"I called to the Goddess for rain, for release.....anything.....and before I could remember, I felt this throbbing pain in my head...then thunder rumbled, the ground shook....." her breathing was heavy, "While the rain had sated the flames, it wasn't until later I found the winds were what leveled the hotel disturbing any relief efforts that could have been organized...it was a storm like none _El Qahira _had witnessed... even reports of a rare 4.5 earthquake struck that day... The hand of God tread down.  
The smell of Death. Fear. Destruction. Confusion.  
_Hell _was a walk in the park upon comparison. A day I forgot all about until minutes ago. So walking into a bar with the woman who reminded me and the last to see my father alive _is _a bad idea, yes, but also one instantly decided."

Her eyes were set, lines rimming white again. Remy _understood_. She knew he did. He always did.

"Den I be der' for you, 'Roro. I _need_ you. Need you ta be well. We'll get through this, or be damned if we don't."

She reached for his hand squeezing it lightly then dropping it surveying the road as she spoke.

"If it were any else here right now, I would have sent them packin' . Since it's you, I _expect_ the support. Now which way to _St. Paul _from here?"

_**104 Rue St.-Paul Est.  
**__**Five Minutes Prior.**_

The rain echoed in refrain as a woman heaved the large wooden door and entered the pub teeming with loud French vocals. Pulling off the hood and removing her jacket, she shook it out letting water spray; tossing damp strands behind her ear before hanging it on a rack. An unusual tall _femme _standing nearly six two and accostumed to towering over many of her peers, she automatically ducked from a low arch for safe measure after paying her cover and then surveying the crowd.

_Les Deux Pierrots _was a good sized pub, publicly acclaimed as one of the top ten features for nightlife in Montreal with a stage highlighting Quebec's finest. It was also a social hub for the locals; a place to dispute philosophy over a glass of _penaniore_, or a casual first date chugging _Guinness. _Of course some preferred their staples of _Gin and Tonic_, _White Russians_ or straight up _Jack_ who wandered from his _Tennessee_roots to cross the border. Blue, white and red lights crisscrossed the corners of the wall around bringing it into a lowlit setting.  
As the onslaught of rain brought the patio dwellers inward, it took another moment to locate the woman who sat off to the side of the stage, legs crossed and nursing a glass of ale. It was seconds later after the vocals of _Mon Ami La Rose _were belted that she saw the distraught lines in her face.

"You see her?"

"_Oui._ She's coming. You sure you want to go through with this?"

She took a seat next to her, eyes cross-examining her body language.

"It's not everyday a chance like this surfaces, _Lee_. She deserves to know."

_Lee _sighed.

"Then I hope the best for you. Her mind is a mess of a train wreck, _Ash_. God awful ozone shocking _Adonai _out of me..."

_Ash _diverted her gaze, toying with the glass, taking a small sip. Sensing a change in the air, she looked up again.

"They're outside."

Fear engulfed her friend's face. Out of all the years _Lee_ knew _Ash_, right under twenty, it was only a handful of times that look crossed her.

"You sure you want to do this?"

Her eyes met eye level. "That was never a question."

Soon eyes were roving to the two that just graced the establishment. _Lee _took in the man who stood near the white haired woman, dark and wet, glancing over the bar with a sense of familiarity on his face. He was a hidden track, impenetrable. Something about his presence unnerved yet hypnotized her all the same for it was a rare thing to run into someone who could dodge her so solidly. A glance, hint, twitch, morsel... nothing. Nothing was budging about him and that somehow infuriated her....

And then there was _Ororo_, projecting like a hurricane. _Appropriate analogy_, she tugged. Her thoughts clubbed over like a two by four, increasing the pain in her head... screams....pain....smoke...death...... or was that _Ash_? Ever since returning to the kiosk, she felt the shift in her friend's thoughts; no longer lingering or faint, but deafening tremors of unease. Outright fear.

Without another thought, the white-haired _femme _had clearly defined their existence and was marching over.  
It was a few more seconds until she came abruptly on their table, and looked down with a staunch unease. _Lee _knew she was holding onto sanity by bare minimal threads. Without an invitation, Ororo took the opposite seat, meeting her fellow long lost childhood acquaintance of four seconds in stride.

_Ash _and Ororo just stood looking at each other for a second, a myriad of thoughts crossing. Ororo had barely made a glance toward Lee, although it wasn't a matter of debate... she knew she was there and didn't care for the fact she was. Yeah, _Lee _could take a hint. It was then she spoke to the man that had blind-sighed her.

"_Je peux vous offrir un verre_?"

_Damn._ Remy took in the tall, long haired brunette that just offered to _buy him a drink. _Of all her fine pleasantries and even finer looking curves, he recanted turning to Ororo. He wasn't going to go anywhere.

"Why don't you Remy."

He was surprised at her admonition. "_Non, _Remy said he'd be here for you_." _

_"_And you are _here_, I appreciate that."

It didn't take rocket science to see that was a dismissal, but he respected as much. "I won't be far, _chere_."

With that, he left trailing the auburn haired _femme _still glancing back towards Ororo. It was another few seconds of staring charades almost as if both were unsure how to break the ice. Ororo eventually did.

"Your friend always that forward with men she doesn't know?"

The woman to her opposite arched an eyebrow.

"Never. Must be special."

"Remy's that and more." Pause. "What's your name?"

"Ayesha."

The next question. "How do you know me?"

The woman known as Ayesha sat back in her seat, sighing lightly.

"Media. Your part of the X-Men right?"

"Alias as _Storm_.... not Ororo," she corrected. "Care to try again?"

"_Storm..." _her eyes glanced at the emptied patio as the rain sloshed over the seats. She took a sip of her ale before looking back up.

"I guess it works. My friends do call me _Ash_.... I guess that works too."

"Look, I don't know if this is a hobby of yours - eluding, hinting and refusing to get to the point- but it's getting old. There's things I need to know. Things that have haunted me a lifetime. Things you should know....understand... things children should never have to remember. You were there in the lobby... minutes before my father was killed....I..." she trailed. _Where where the damn words?_ "I need to know...." _know what? _"How did it really go down? Why did it?"

Ayesha drew an inward breath, a flood of emotion over washing her.

"My mom was waiting outside for me when I came down - in a hurry to get to the church you know, she was a devout _Coptic Christian_. So I glanced back saying goodbye to Amir who had descended from the elevator. He was walking toward the reception desk where a tall American stood but my mom was still yelling at me something fierce. No. There wasn't even time for a proper goodbye. So I retreated from the lobby into the car parked at the curb, and as we drove away, remembered seeing a boy in a bulky jacket heading towards the hotel...."

Ororo could see a cold tear begging for an exit on the right side of her eye but knew it wasn't going to be shed it until she had finished.

"Next thing I remember our car was launched into the air, my mom was impaled through the stomach, our driver was bleeding to death, and I couldn't move my legs. There was flames, smoke, screams, shouts on the outside - _Allah is great, Allah is merciful, Allah be with us.._..."

The tear found a release. Ororo felt one of her own forming. " I didn't believe in a god for a long time after that."

Ayesha continued in a nonchalant sting.

" My legs were crushed you know..." she let out an inappropriate chuckle, all nerves, "But I managed myself out, crawling onto the streets.....I screamed louder then I could ever remember, trudging my way back to the hotel, pounding my fists against the earth.... " She paused again.  
"Then I remembered the ground shook... the earth trembling under my fingertips..... and rain. Man did it rain - It rained and thundered something fierce. Lightning riped across the sky. Winds.....God. That day, fear was born in my bones."

" It's funny. Life. Fates. Wrong place-wrong time, whatever have you; how quick it changes. One minute things are normal, the next... I had no mother, no brother...and no father....."

Ororo wracked hands through her hair, pain etching her features all over.

"Amir was your brother, the receptionist... your father?"

"Aywa. His name was _Kameel Ad'Badan, _my mother _Nadya_."

She was speechless for a time; the realization dawning both their fathers were conversing seconds before they perished into pieces on a bombers whim. The tears flowed, and Ororo felt the crowd constricting on her, the music; reaching a octave too high for comfort. She needed to breath, needed air. Although it rained harder then before, she bolted toward the patio, in need of the downpour to mask the raw emotions that had been resurrected. Without a thought, Ayesha followed her.  
As the cold water and wind assaulted her flesh, she took refuge under the umbrella from one of the tables.  
She continued like they hadn't moved.

"None survived... No one."

"It was years later I saw you in _El Gezira_ pick-pocketing that rich man in the _midaan. _I didn't believe it at first but no one else had white hair and blue eyes.....so I followed you back to _Shubra_....and overheard a conversation with someone named _Farouk_.... Ororo......" she pleaded..."He called you Ororo. Everyone with sense in _El Qahira _knew Farouk was bad company. It wasn't until after he died that I found out the boy that bombed my father's hotel worked for him. "

At that, Ororo felt her pulse drop. She struggled for air as the cold gripped her lungs.

"_Farouk_ killed them?"

" Some beef with my father. Farouk owned the _El Qahira _underworld. Blackmailed everyone, rumoured to have a way with suggestion. When he tried to invest in one of my father's hotels -he owned a chain- possibly for a new base of operations, my father denied him. He didn't like it. I heard little things transpired, Amir would tell me, he was ten years my senior. He'd get threats of possible attack... but this went on for months. Then the situation with Israel surfaced and he found a prime example to get even."

Ororo looked on bewildered.

"But Farouk took Orphans and trained then to pick-pocket his bidding...."

"Aywa, that he did. He also had a secret branch of misplaced children, orphans, fatherless boys, and others that he trained into suicide bombers. The boy's name was _Ahamad_, a cousin of mine, disappeared from my uncle years before I was born. I never knew him. And as things would have it, I never would."

Ororo grew sick. For all the years she spent battling the Shadow King, it seemed her problems just dwindled. This woman should have more angst then anyone. Her whole family was manipulated and killed over his evil.

"The man who killed him - Mutant activist behind your X-Men, right?"

She nodded, unsure how of how she knew that. When authorities found Farouk's body, they determined the cause of death to be a massive stroke followed by heart failure. Nothing more. Ayesha still knew more then she had already shared.

"Farouk was a bested telepath wasn't he?"

" They fought, yes. Xavier won...."

Ayesha's eyes glazed over in hatred. "Good."

With that admonition, Ororo didn't feel the need to express Farouk's resurrection; the thought of him still roaming somewhere on the astral plane making her more sick then she already was.

" So now that you know what I know.... tell me how you survived...no one survived..."

Ororo struggled for words.

"I.....I don't know. I remember calling the Goddess for rain to stop the flames, my mother screaming... dying next to me... and then a white light before I passed out..... when I awoke, I was being pulled from under the rubble. I remember a hospital, white, white...." She trailed remembering streaming white hair, the vision of a Goddess talking her through...  
"...then being contained in the American Embassy for time....they wanted to send me home.. but I didn't want to go. Couldn't go.... I had to find my father.... he was alive somewhere, I was convinced. So I fled. I lived off the streets, stole and squatted in numerous places before.....before Farouk found me..."

"You made it rain didn't you."

Ayesha's violet eyes were focused seemingly boring holes right through her very existence. Those words, prompting the haunt.  
It was a question posed in statement form. Ororo's face drew in long shameful strides as she refused to meet her gaze.

"Made it rain.... made it thunder. No one could get through to help anyone....they were to die alone and without a chance, everyone....besides you , right?"  
Her voice condescending and laced with venom.

"No....."

"The lower side of _El Qahira_ was destroyed...."

"No..."

"65,000 people killed or wounded....."

"No.....

"It flooded... A fifteen foot storm surge off the Nile.... the Arab world had never heard of such a thing...."

"Goddamn it.....no....I didn't."

"Yes, you did...."

"No...."

" Your right.....we did."

Ororo sprung up at her revelation.

"What did you say?" Her voice, shakey.

Ayesha paced back and forth, the rain thoroughly drenching her.

"I said we did....for god's sake, Ororo......"

"Don't fuck with me, Ayesha. Don't_ PRESUME_ anything to me. For years, I've lived through nightmares and suicidal bouts of...misery... knowing.....I couldn't change _any _of it. Sleeping each night with the guilt of souls on my conscience.....it's not... pleasant... to know you murdered, to know you didn't even understand that you murdered... and then to wonder why you were cursed to live when you killed so many.... so..... So don't FUCK with this..."

"Don't what? Don't fuck with the idea you made the wind blow caused a few tenements to collapse? Try living with idea of causing a _FAULT_ to break, and in turn a Tsunami to wipe out the other half of everything...try not fucking with that."

Silence and shock set over Ororo's face.

"You?"

Ayesha's eyes wrote the very meaning of shame at that moment and time and Ororo felt a connection beyond an earthly understanding.

"You....you caused that earthquake?"

There it was again, that nervous laugh.

"Actually, If you want to be frank, _yes_. _Farouk_ incited it, you increased it and _I _caused it. So there you have it. Your not the only murderer on the block. And about me not _PRESUMING_ to understand insomnia, bouts of depression, thoughts of suicide, misery or any other side affects of knowing you ended innocent civilian life, feel free to add the list. I'm all ears. Guilt fest here...."

Ororo felt a scowl in her throat. All these years she believed it was her doing, her actions that prompted the chaos, her abilities that killed souls before their time. And now here she stood in the bouts of a rainstorm, soaked to the bone being told she only caused _half_ the problem. It sliced her open. She didn't think another soul roamed the earth that understood her shame....

"Oh my god...."

"God," She started to pace.  
"I told you I didn't believe in God for a long time after that. No god would cause that. And then one day while in thought, it occurred to me. I was wrong and I was right. Wrong to think there wasn't a god, oh he's there. Regardless of the crap we go through, there's a benefactor of creation cowering the heavens..... But I was right to think no God would cause that; allowing it to transpire, maybe. But never _the_ reason _it _happened. Still the thoughts irks if he did allow it, why? And I don't know. Maybe he's planning some great judgement in the future, to wipe out all problems in one stroke. But then again, there are small things he provides to get through anything.... and I believe he allowed me and you to survive so one day we'd find each other and know that _there _is always someone else who understands....."

Ororo felt the deep penetrating reason of the woman.

"Allah is merciful. Allah is forgiving. Allah Is compassionate. That's the adage right? Or maybe.... it's your Goddess..."

Ororo saw the flash of white cascade when she lay in the hospital bed. _"Be well, my child.. be well..." _Maybe the vision that did save her all these years... Ayesha continued.

"Who knows....but I do know that only you and I soley understand this....to be two little sparrows amongst a huge forest.....to build foundations with so little...and still manage to find a reason to continue when things feel so menial....We know what type of people we are....What type of people we've become...."

Even though Ororo had only talked to this woman less then a half hour, a lifetime of guilt slowly started to melt. She understood. Oh for someone to _UNDERSTAND _that. As the rain slowed it's descent to a drizzle and then completely stopped, Ayesha smiled.

"It's been a long time, Ororo."

Ororo felt tears of relief forming.

"Too long."

Ayesha glanced back from the patio inward towards the bar where both Remy and Lee looked engrossed in conversation, or maybe a spirited debate. She wrung out her soaked clothes, a half laugh on her lips.

"Some things don't change. And for the record..this is _all _your fault."

Ororo laughed.


	4. Mercy Street

_**A/N:** So much for an epilogue. Just call this the next chapter.  
Heads up: Some Rolo in this chapter and even an (older) Kitty makes an appearance!  
Don't expect any certain time lines to correlate with the comics, as I just take general knowledge and use it at my whims..._

_**Disclaimer:** Marvel Owns the motherload, no profits are had._

*************************

Friday night had come; a time to lay low the cares of the week. Classes were over, the battles had been fought and some much needed downtime was upon the occupants of the Xavier institute. Where Ororo Munroe was concerned, it presented a way to be with thoughts; nagging and self loathing as they might have been. Tonight, she shunned normal forms of conventionalism.

She packed menial supplies; a tent, sleeping bag, and a small purse that housed other little things. A light patch of snowfall had descended, enough to keep the masses indoors, but was no concern to the woman of which the elements wielded their whims. Picking out a spot deep into the tree line right on the bank of the lake and clearing it, she set up her tent and then spread out her sleeping bag landing on it with a ceremonial plop. It was few more minutes of rustling that a small blanket, journal and IPOD were produced. Everything was bathed in moonlight, casting an ethereal glow on the landscape. _What a Wonderful World_ began to play on the shuffle, and as much as she loved that tune, her somber mood wasn't thinking on how wonderful things were. It was replaced with _Mercy Street_. Definite mood music.

_She pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam  
She pictures a soul with no leak at the seam..._

_...Nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey  
Nowhere in the suburbs, in the cold light of day.....There in the midst of it so alive and alone  
words support like bone...._

On a Sunday afternoon, a bomber walked into The Ad'Badan Hotel in El Qahira and blew it to kingdom come. After seeing her mom die in a dragged out fashion from injuries then ultimately lack of oxygen under rubble for hours, consternation and hysteria reigned before the four year old passed out. Now awake, it was to find out no one else survived.  
Between the nightmares that came in flashes, a revealing that she had something to do with it all was her undoing. Twenty years had passed carrying the burden of knowing it. Feeling it. Dealing with it. She unleashed a tempest killing thousands. Over twenty years of never knowing she had an accomplice that split the ground open and swallowed up the other half of the dead; an unlikely sister who shared in the pain of loosing her family.

Ayesha, as her name happened to be, had an interesting outlook on forgiving herself from that day. She had faith a higher source already had. While Ororo found that a solace then, the time given to rethink everything had convinced her it wasn't that simple. You just don't kill thousands and then feign the Goddess for loving mercy.

_….Mercy…._

It mirrored the charge of people who couldn't bear responsibilities or, by lack of a better expression, was a flat cop-out. And Ororo was no cop-out. Never really took the easy way out. Held up responsibility almost to a blinding fault. But she was different, made of alternate elements. Not like her unlikely sister borne in distress.  
She recalled Ayesha's mantra, the glint in her violet eyes and the rain that beaded down her dreads as she spoke in her low accented English with nothing but conviction. These were her realities, her words.

_Allah is merciful. Allah is forgiving. Allah Is compassionate... or maybe it's your Goddess...._

_Sometimes I wonder if Ahamed was condemned to j'hinom, suffering so.  
It never made sense to me that someone who barely lived fifteen years of sins should pay an eternity for them....  
And then of course, he probably was under Farouk's mind-control. Even if man's petty laws can make case for the unstable, then why are we taught the all knowing and the all seeing can't judge the truly condemned? If there is true forgiveness, true compassion, and true mercy shown to us, then why can't we forgive ourselves?_

_....Dreaming of mercy  
in your daddy's arms again....._

_Mercy…  
Mercy..._

She felt a solitary tear running down looking through old news paper clippings chronicling that fateful day; she had kept them in the back of her journal pocket. A vigil maybe? Recompense? Devastation, charred streets, screams and fear of darkness never needed to be reminded where she was concerned, for it lived on the very edge of her being. Especially without inhibitors to block them. It's not so easy to forget. Not so easy to forgive.

_Dreaming of Mercy..._

As the music faded into darkness, the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow beyond the woods peaked her attentions. Pausing the IPOD, and tucking all the nostalgias away, she waited. Footsteps faded (most likely reaching the area she cleared) replaced by whiffs of smoke. Cigar smoke to be exact.

"Spying on me?"

Her voice was low, almost serious as she turned pulling the headphones away. He stood with a tipped hat diverting his eyes, taking a long pull from the cigar. He was clothed in his Stetson, tight fitting jeans that outlined ever crescent of muscle and a warn in leather jacket. The crisp scent of snow mixed with a faint lull of aftershave told her he hadn't been out like she thought. He lowered his smoke, pulled his cowboy hat back, and met her with a dark gaze.

"More like Admirin'."

Even though her mutation shunned the sensations of cold, Ororo lifted up the small blanket. She only wore a sheer silk slip that left little to the imagination. Even though Logan had seen and touched her on more then a enough occasions, it still didn't change the fact that her mind had been millions of miles away from earth. She felt the sudden pull of irritation at being invaded as he raised a suggestive eyebrow in her direction, and proceeded to sit Indian style on the edge of her sleeping bag. No, they weren't on the same page. Not right now ad least.

"Gumbo said ya might be out here. Everyone took off to Harry's fer a few drinks. Weeks been hell."

"Harry's. Sounds like your kind of place. Why didn't you join them?"

She was now laying flat on her back, head propped by her hands, looking straight up at the stars. Logan took in the way her sapphire eyes glistened off the eternal glow of moonlight; her hair, sprawled out in organized disarray equally as bright. The contours of her skin beyond the blanket outlined the shape of feminine beauty begot only in poems and epics of old. How he longed to take every inch of her in his arms and remove all traces of sadness that had been brewing there for the better part of the last few months, but somehow, each time, she retreated donning her Ice Queen demeanor. She wore it with a firebrand now, purposely defiant to make eye contact. But tonight, that wasn't going to fly.

" 'Cause I'd rather be with my woman."

"That's a nice gesture. Maybe we can plan something tomorrow---"

" I was thinkin' bout something now."

Reluctantly breaking her stargazing, she found Logan staring with purpose. A dangerous glint lining them.

"'Ro, you've been avoidin' me fer months now, not speaking to anyone beyond missions an' work - well except fer Gumbo..."his teeth clenched after that admonition,  
"And I'm not dealin' with this no more. You got somethin' botherin' ya then yer goin' to tell me. Even if I have to wretch the truth by force…..Yer goin' to give me somethin'....."

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"Well you're sure talkin' to Swamp Rat fine enough."

"Remy's my brother. Always will be. Get off it, Logan."

"And who am I? Nobody?"

As she refused to dignify that with a response, Logan felt a sudden surge of annoyance. In a flash, he was over her, one hand effectively pinning her arms above her head in a captive stance. She arched at his touch leaving the little blanket to fall away and a bounty of caramel breasts open to observation. Logan sated a sharp stab of arousal that surfaced deep in his gut. She was being damn difficult and looking more unlikely-wanton then ever. Her diaphragm heaved gently in and out, but forlorn pain vexed her eyes as she relaxed against his visage. He wondered what could have gotten to her in such a bad way and now was a matter of urgency to get to the bottom of it, well before he burst.

"I'm sorry Logan. I've not been fair to you. If you need your physical needs met---"

He couldn't deny that moment his little head was taking over his big one, but still felt a forceful sting and disturbing mental slap from her words. They're relationship had never been a public spectacle, like that of Scott or Jean, but more so a private understanding between to consenting adults acting like adults with no drama attached, but for her to think so little of herself, so little of him, he physically winced at that thought.

Ororo was so much to him he could never verbalize and maybe if he had taken the time to tell her instead of being such an arrogant ass, she wouldn't have said that. It literally felt like a knife was taken and out came a little piece of his heart. He wondered how much more pain she felt by the look on her face.

"God, Ro. Don't think that. Don't degrade us like that…."

Degrade. That was the only term he could think of for her seeing their physical relationship as nothing more then animalistic magnetism. It pissed him off just thinking about it….

She clenched her eyes unable to look at him.

"Look at me, 'Ro."

She kept them shut, shame building. In a quick stride, he drew her deep into his arms. Ororo could feel the heat permeating as embraced her around the waist, leaning into the wall of his chest; her head resting on the his shoulder. He caressed her hair; the feel of his fingertips lingering on her forehead as she felt a shiver of tenderness run through like wildfire. The other hand was stroking the flesh of her abdomen as she eased into his touch, his faint breath touching her earlobe.

"It's okay, 'Ro. You didn't mean that."  
He paused. Her body language confirmed she didn't and he breathed a bit easier.

" Please darlin' open those baby blues. Tell me what's plaguin' my beautiful Goddess."

Her eyes opened and were met with his captivating grey orbs. Only the most pure undiluted sense of understanding and love lurked behind them taking the shame of her awful words with it. When she decided to speak, it was low and hushed as he continued to caress her.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Totally out of line, not really me…."

"No, it's outta line that you even thought it in the first place. And my fault for not lookin' past myself and telling ya…."

His touch slowly stopped, and Ororo could feel his body tensing slightly. She felt a deep knowing in her gut, almost waiting for it, for the words to come.

"Tell me what?"

"That the day I see you as anything but…. What you are…. is the day I admit Scott is right……on anything."

He a felt slight movement, a contained chuckle vibrate onto his stomach, that of her finding humour in the thought of Logan's suggestions.

"And what am I?" She was asking as her head tilted back onto his chest, and catching in more stars.

He stopped at the loaded question.  
_Loyalty. Friendship. Brilliance. Understanding. Essence. Motivation. Reason. Passion. Meaning. Calm. Light.  
_Those were just a few of the many things that came to mind. There was so much more. Now he wondered if the words would come of if they would ever be enough.  
If there was diction to explain it to her. He pulled in a breath passing in more silence then was meant to lapse. Ororo bobbed her head slightly to meet him.

"Wow, that much, huh?"

He relaxed, looking down at her, a faint smile emerging.

"Yeah. Words can't describe it Ro."

She maneuvered back so she wasn't arching her head anymore, and sighed.

"I guess that means I'm ad least good company."

"You know it darlin."

Without warning, she changed course.

"You.... know the feeling... of not being able to forgive yourself on something you had no control over... don't you?"

Logan pondered a moment over her inquiry, somehow feeling this might lead into the mysterious situation 'Ro wasn't willing to talk about just a bit ago.

"Not really. If I had no control over it, then I can forgive myself easier. Now over the things I can control, that's a different story..." Logan trailed, apparently thinking more then he said, "It's kinda like playin' God and I don't do that."

Perplexed, she responded, "What do you mean?"

"When you live as long as I do, you learn to pick yer battles. Yer guilt's, how ya cope with 'em. Sometimes yer at fault, other times nature takes over. While you can let both burn you inta the ground, the ladder shouldn't. Sometimes things happen that are beyond us. Who's ta say we even have a choice preventin' what happens in the first place?"

Silence fell. Ororo gazed at the heavenly bodies, suddenly feeling insignificantly small and menial in her skin.  
She knew Logan was plagued with shredded memories courtesy of the Weapon X program that used him as a killing machine, ultimately against his will. He also contended with the very essence of being a feral mutant, always on the edge of sanity, and doubled with his healing factor, had to live the reality of bloodshed, voluntary and involuntary, a lot longer then anyone else. How Wolverine managed to function serving a man's dream of passive means to deal with people who degraded him so horribly was a modern-day miracle. Better yet, it was more amazing here he sat, stroking and tending her mental anguish while being reminded of his own. She was being unreasonably selfish, and wanted to punt herself for it.

"Yer beautiful, 'Ro. Inside and out. Whatever's got you doubtin' that don't deserve yer tears or time. As many people as you saved bein' an X-Men.... hell, just bein' you.... considerate, carin', beyond this world's good graces... that's what counts. Let the rest of everything else go... let it go, Darlin."

Ororo felt a splash of tears falling down her cheek at his tender words. She sent a silent prayer heaven-ward and decided to bury her self-loathing once again. The ache was present, ever phishing deep, but his words brought control to the inferno; placed back on the fringe from where they threatened to descend.

She faced him, locking him in an big embrace, tossing the Stetson aside and digging her hands into his wolfish locks before pulling in for a deep kiss. Responsively, he hoisted her in his lap. It was an urgent gesture, reaffirming the intimacy of the moment and almost in fear that any open space could carry it away. Reluctantly, he sated a deep breath as she ended the passionate gesture, a smile appearing. Logan recanted it had been months since he saw it.

"Thank you...." she paused, thinking back on his speechless declaration minute ago. She knew what he meant. It was communication through silence. She felt it too, but decided to reaffirm it on her own.

"I love you too Logan." And she did. No qualms.

A look of complete adulation and joy registered. He pulled her in for a commanding kiss.

"I love ya."

With the barrier of words conquered, he held her close, reveling in the touch of bare flesh crushed against him. Desire started lurking upwards, and by the change of pace in her chemistry, he could sense she felt the same. His hands ran down the contours of her back, pulling her slip further away from her body.

"Now that that's sorted, bout those physical needs...let me meet yers."

She nipped his neck in response.

***********

It was nearly ten thirty when Logan and Ororo had made it back to the mansion. The night was filled with discussion, lovemaking, stargazing, and more lovemaking. Ororo had flown them on the balcony, reaching her loft to drop off the supplies but not before indulging in a shower (that reluctantly turned cold under their passions and forced them out), and eventually dressed for the day. Another hour easily vanished before they made it down to the kitchen, greeted by the other late riser who let the morning fade into the dust.

"Well mes ami, 'bout time you two showed up." Remy looked on at his beloved padnat.

"Good Morning, Brother." She walked over and kissed him on the forehead.

Logan grunted, but it didn't hold the usual tenor of annoyance and judging by the good spirits she was in, he smirked.  
After the excursion in Canada, he remembered a good many nights playing the unlikely therapist, understandably so. But as fate would have it, Logan wasn't as understanding. If Remy roamed a mile every time a threat was issued, he'd be orbiting round the Shi'ar Empire by now. A plethora of Whatcha doin to my woman? -If you don't tell me now, I'ma gut ya speeches ruined more then enough evenings of his life, and as much as he loved his Stormy and would walk blind through fire to keep her confidences, it came to a head like all situations involving Logan usually do. So he laid it on her: set it straight or a slew of misfortunes i.e. - sugar in the Harley tank, set-charges on every Cuban - might ensue. Apparently she came to believe a feral lover and dead best friend wouldn't help find peace of mind so….mission accomplished.

In a possessive lull, Logan walked up, taking her hand and moving her over behind the counter with him. He opened the fridge, pulling out some ingredients amounting to eggs, veggies, milk, butter and sausage and plopped them on the island.

"Whatcha want to eat Darlin? I can whip up a great southwestern omelet, maybe vegetarian...."

She smiled at him, glowing. It wiped all tension as he pulled her in for a kiss with the intention of deliberately pissing off the Cajun. Instead, Remy smirked. He wasn't a fan of Logan, but there had been worse, like whatshisface...... yeah. That douche. There was no excuse for him.  
Ad least Logan could blame his hulking stupidity on feral mutation in line with all the other annoying idiosyncrasies he possessed.

As he finally pulled away, (as the fading thought _getta room_ came to mind_)_ the sound of another voice came from behind, one familiar, and laced with a distinct southern draw. He liked that draw…

"Look what tha cat dragged in...."

Rogues announcement was cut short when Kitty phased through her, causing curses to fly forth and then a reply of "be thankful you don't have bionic limbs" before making a beeline in direction to the fridge.

"ORORO!"

Her hands flared as she clamored her in a big fat embrace. Ororo reciprocated kissing her forehead, laughing heartily.

"Hello Kitten! Good to see you back from London!"

After a few minutes, she released her, likely hit with the revelation there were other people the room.

"Oh, Logan. Remy. Good to see you guys too."

Logan chuckled. " We all see who won the popularity contest round here....Good to have ya back, half-pint. I trust all is in order over the pond."

"Yeah, of course. Duh!" Her voice hit a high tenor that remained endearing.

"So, how long you be here for, little one? Did Kurt come wit' you?"

The question came from Remy at the table. Rogue had taken the seat next to him and was picking off the remnants of sausage smothered in hot sauce, apparently leftovers from a late breakfast. He was giving her suggestive stairs as she rolled her eyes. It was good to see familiarity, Kitty thought lovingly.

It had been nearly a year since her and Kurt had left to join the ranks of Excalibur. Ororo took in the way Kitty searched the island for something to eat, and settled on some carrots Logan had pulled out from fridge minutes earlier. She replied between chews.

"No, he stayed behind. Brian and he were training some new recruits. One being a telepath, from Tel Aviv. I remembered that because I thought it would be cool having another Jewish person around - and someone else I didn't meet, but anyway - " Ororo arched an eyebrow as Kitty spouted on in her youthful vigor.

"I'm only here for the weekend. I know you can guess why....."  
Kitty eyed the room, seeing if anyone would catch on.  
Ororo finally did.

"Oh, it's your birthday!"

Kitty beamed. "See there's a reason I loved you first. Since it seems no one else remembered…."

"Or cared," came from a grumbled Remy.  
It followed with a "hey, outta sight, outta mind" acceptation from Rogue. Kitty glared at them both before continuing.

" Besides, Logan," she looked up at him with big wide brown eyes, the eyes that spoke trouble and mischief, "You promised to take me for my first legal drink. I was thinking we could go into the city and celebrate properly. Of Course Ororo is coming too...."

Logan chuckled. "Properly? Now yer soundin' like a redcoat. Besides, why's drinking such a big idea? Legal age over there is eighteen. I'm sure you've gotten more then shitfaced in the past year."

There was a beam of red that outlined her face. Pegged.

"Yeah, so, it's more special and meaningful with your family and in the land of your birth."

Logan chuckled, "That don't even seem right....It was like a minute ago you were still fourteen and a half and only five that you were still teethin."

"Yeah, Yeah. I can't help it you're an old fart. And One year is one minute, and one minute turns into a decade…and a decade turns into a second... and a second eventually becomes a lifetime…." She rattled on hoping whatever she just said made sense. There was so much wrong with that, but no one seemed to care about it, so she crossed her arms to solidify her point. Logan smirked.

"Yer still a half pint..."

"And a half-pint of _Guinness_ sounds good when we paint the town red, what do you think?"

"You hear this kid 'Ro? Sounds like consenting to illegal acts of conduct…"

Ororo smiled, finally speaking.

"Aw Kitten, it's just surreal how time flies. It's good to have you back with us, only if it is for a little while, and we'd be overjoyed spent it with you. Tell ya what, Logan even agrees all drinks are on him tonight, right? "

She nudged him playfully, but he looked at her like she lost her mind. If the smirk he was getting was any indication of an award for later, he just nodded. Sure, why the hell not. He snaked arm around her waist.

"Sure, means I can monitor then."

"No way......yes!!"

Kitty did an impromptu victory dance in the middle of the kitchen, leaving everyone at odds for her strange behaviour.

"Must be sum good hash Kitty be smokin' in England. Maybe Remy should check it out, non?"

That earned a smack from Rogue.

"What chere? Remy just say what everyone's t'inking."

She glared at him.

"Not everyone is ah delinquent like ya swamp rat."

Remy glared at her. "Der Loss."

"Really, what's so exciting, Kitten?" Ororo's voice broke through, as it seemed Kitty missed the entire exchange of Remy and Rogue over her continued dancing.

"Kurt owes me forty pounds!!! Ha! Wait till he hears it...." After ending her gestures, she smiled and beamed at Ororo and gave Logan a long winding look.

"Bout time you two hardheads finally got together."  
She rattled hugging them both. It finally hit them. Kitty must have caught on after Logan put his arm around her. But it was something else that hit Logan, maybe a few seconds delayed as he turned to Ororo.

"Did she admit to bettin' on us?"

Before a response could be had Peter came strolling past the kitchen.

"Mail-Call...." he stopped in mid sentence at the sight of Kitty. Both their eyes met.

"Kitty?" There was a silence before he continued, "When did you get here?"

She stammered a few minutes before responding.

"Just a few minutes ago... I'm only here for the weekend."

She diverted her eyes down, seemingly unsure how to respond to him.

"Happy birthday Kitty."

His voice was low in thick with his Russian accent, and at that, proceeded to look back at the mail.

"This is for you, Ororo."

And with that he handed a package off to her, but it was clear his intentions were still on the young woman before him.

Ororo glanced at the brown package, with no return address and raised an eyebrow.

"Kitty..."

Everyone in the room took it as a hint to give the two former lovers a second alone. Before leaving, Logan patted Kitty on the shoulder.

"Good to see ya again, kid."

Now out in the hallway, Remy, Rogue, Logan and Ororo took turns staring at each other.

"How ya think that's gonna go over?" Rogue inquired of the situation they just left in the kitchen.

"Like a fart in a diver's helmet, non. Ya just don' go reaffirming your love for an' alien dat mindfucked ya an expect your ex ta be okay wid'it."

"Didn't know ya possessed such ah poetic soul, Swamp Rat."

"Chere, I possess more den dat. Would ya like to... find out? If dat be so den meet me t'night and be prepared to.. inquire wid'in."

"Inquire this." A middle finger was included in that thought.

"Don' be make threats you aren't prepared ta keep."

"An don' be proposals that ya can't live up ta."

"Can it, ingrates. You two are makin' me sick."

Regardless of the insulting threat just breathed, the banter continued for another five minutes until....

"Do shut up."

Ororo's command obviously was more effective. A cease and desist of stupidity followed, and at that, she continued to the original topic of discussion.

" Besides, Peter knows he messed up. If anything, she might invite him to the city. Time is the best remedy to any problem."

"Maybe. But in da' meantime, let's get ready to get shitfaced..."  
and with that Ororo and Rogue both elbowed Remy in sweet harmony.

"Oh come on, femmes. Da Wolverine says it, an he gets notin, Remy says it and he gets clobbered. Where's da justice?"  
He proceeded to rub his sides.

"C'Mon Cajun. Ya had enough good ideas for one mornin.' Let's go find Bets and Warren...."

At that, she latched one gloved hand through his arm and dragged him away. _With a look of never tango wit' a femme who could suck ya dry_ plastered on his face, he gladly retreated, but not before motioning to the package in Ororo's hands. Ororo then returned her attention to it momentarily before Logan's gruff voice broke the sonic barrier.

"'Ro, I know ya say he's your brother, but couldn't ya have found somethin' more intelligent? Kid don' left me with a headache that only a bottle of jack cab get rid of."

She smile light-hearte, an eyebrow raising.  
"Come on Logan, you know I adore free entertainment."  
She paused with a mischief in her grin.  
" It's why I'm with you after all."

"Woman, yer askin for it."

While he sounded all rough and tough, the grin creeping at the side of his features gave way to amusement.

"Oh, idle threats from the big bad Wolverine. What should I do? Run or fly?"

"Don' matter, either way yer gonna end up on yer backside."

"Your arrogance is astounding."

"Thanks."

He pulled her towards his chest in good spirits before running into an obstruction. Damn it, he felt like taking three claws to it right away for the roadblock before realizing that would be overkill on a simple package. He already forgot she had it.

"Who's it from?"

"Not a clue...."

"Where's it postmarked?"

Ororo glanced, as he let her go and she examined it a second time over catching a faint postmark on the backside.  
" Looks like the United Kingdom."

"England's just dropping in all kinds'a surprises today, huh?"

"Could be Wales, Scotland or Northern Ireland."

"Maybe, but last I checked Essex was England." He brought attention to the fine print under the postmark.

"Har. Har."

"Enhanced eyesight, Darlin. Goes a long way.

_Logan._

Logan jumped at he mental summoning. No matter how many times the method was used, it still made him edgy. Damn people just rippin through the fabric of time and space, summin' ya without warning had that effect. Whatever happened to a simple and normal person-to-person call?

_Yo Chuck._

_I know Kitty's return is quite a treat, and you are all planning to go out, but if you please, a word before you depart._

_Sure thing Chuck._

And with that, the mental transmission ended.

"I gotta check in the with Chuck. Catch you later?"

Ororo smiled, "Sure thing."

He pulled her in for a very passionate-and-public kiss, tongue and all before departing, signifying a definitely new chapter in their relationship. She found herself intoxicated and a little weak at the knees as his footsteps retreated around the corner. Staring for a bit, feeling more at peace with her life, her family her friends and herself then she had in a long time, Ororo smiled before returning her thoughts back to the mysterious package.

Walking past the kitchen, she saw Peter and Kitty in deep conversation before creeping away and flying out the front door. Now a good distance in woods, she landed on the forest floor noticing the snow from last night all but melted away as it contended with the bright afternoon sun. Not a cloud could be seen for miles and wouldn't surface till much later, she high up in a tree, she relaxed under a sturdy limb, one foot dangling, the other anchoring her weight. Tearing the first layer of the package away, she found another box, then an envelope. Securing hold of the box, she opened the envelope and found a letter in small and pristine handwriting. She read it carefully, thoughtfully.

_Ahalan'wasalan Windrider,_

_I debated writing this in Arabic script, but wasn't sure if you ever advanced that far in your studies. Speaking and writing are two different things, non? So I settled on English. You were so keen to speak it even when you were in French territory, although, I knew you understood French well enough. To err is human, to forgive divine. But don't worry, for I am far from perfect (as you know better then any) and even might succumb to exchanging out English words for other tongues during the course of the this letter. If that's the case, all apologies ahead of time for any confusion._

_I do think I failed to mention in our previous meeting, I speak seven languages. Sabbah! In numerology according to the Gnostics, and even Christian mysticism, seven is suppose to denote completeness; Although I highly doubt judging ones completeness of character is based on the number of languages they speak but more a direct result taken from places traveled or worldly exposure. And Allah knows I've lived in a great many places to know firsthand: Egypt, Syria, Israel, Lebanon, Italy, Germany, France..... Sometimes I wonder if i will always be wandering without a true home base. If you have found that in the X-Men you serve (and that Remy character you insist on calling a 'brother' no accounting for taste, sister), then hold onto it with every fiber of your being. It's something special that should be cherished, regardless of the cold hard fact it could be taken from you in a flash of a button or a trigger being pulled.  
I've been blessed to find one true friend that has cleaved to me like no other, and strangely enough, by world standards, we're suppose to be enemies. Allah has a strange way of working his will on things and I don't question why he does anything anymore._

_But in other news, maybe you would be happy to hear you motivated me to try this superhero kick. Although we'll see how long it will be before me and Lianyia caravan it to the next town. Maybe we'll stick around here for a little bit. There's been lots of interesting people, to say the least. But none as interesting as you._

_Although I can say the reason for our meeting is something I didn't want to mentally rehash (as you didn't want to either, I am sure), I felt our assembling to becoming of one mind was essential. I know I might have spoke of understanding your exact pain, but now I see that might have been a false accusation since we are, in effect, two different people. And everyone has different coping mechanisms. But still, we were thrown into a situation, never the ones to create it. I hope, ad least, you can see the difference between the two. So now that I have exhausted my preaching to the choir, rainmaker.( Did I mention, the rain from tonight made me sit down and scribe you now?), Ben's telling me it's time to get some rest. He can be such a noisy pain._

_Either way, I hope your sleeping well.  
Enjoy the memento. (It is yours after all, aywa?) And maybe we'll meet again soon._

_Keep the faith my sister._

_~Ayesha_

Ororo gently folded the letter back. Ayesha, although living a tragic past, possessed a definite dry sense of humour, and maybe in some instances, a bit of a morbid yet realistic outlook.  
But no matter.

Putting those thoughts aside, she turned her attentions to the other box. Black, quaint and fair sized. After opening it, a slab of jade hit the sunlight. Ororo felt her breath catch, much the same as it had the night she saw it on the street corner in old Montreal.

One of her esteemed pickpocket goods from childhood.  
So it was hers after all, yes?  
A double meaning coursed that mention; a cryptic metatruth, she noted mentally. Maybe for the next meeting, as Ayesha spoke that there would be, that would be the conversation starter. Memories still eluded as to how and why she ended up with it to begin with.

Presently, she marveled at the cut of the stone, its possible metal impurities, lack-luster and then the inlay of gold and silver interlocking hoops so expertly crafted. A sudden thought hit her that it could have been older and more an antique then she realized.  
Maybe it was an old heirloom?  
Probably Persian in origin, since the guy she got it from was Persian, or as she was told. And with those thoughts, a carbon test didn't sound like such a bad idea. She put it on her things to mention when she saw Hank list. But now, it wouldn't matter if someone said it was part of the lost treasure of Eldorado, she wove it around her neck like a keepsake.

She made it back her loft, tucking the letter safely away in her vanity and then finding a few minutes to gaze into mirror at her image. All seemed in order, her hair was bounteous; although she was debating whether to put it in plaits again. She really liked the plaits. But turning that thought aside, she decided to trade in her jeans and grey tank top for attire more becoming for the city. Something in leather, and maybe green to match her necklace.

It was a few more minutes before the sight of auburn hair caught the corner of the mirror. She turned to see Remy standing in the doorway, his trademark duster donned, and his armed crossed. He wore a light smirk that could be transferred into a smile, and moved further into her room.

""What did she say?"

Remy, the intuitive.  
She moved from the mirror to her bed. He followed until both were sitting on the edge.  
Or maybe just Remy the observant. His eyes darted from the workmanship hanging over her collarbone.

"Well lets see, a hello for one. Indulged she's been on the run most of her life, is trying out London for a bit now. Speaks seven languages. I think that's about the gist of it."

"Seven? Merde, someone gets around. Makes Remy wonder how many her side-kicked speaks, non. Man, dat one… whatta piecea work."

Ororo recalled the woman Ayesha had been with. Another strange one, someone she called Liana or Leanyia or something equally as close. Sounded Russian upon first thought and Ororo recalled she spoke English with another accent, but really didn't care about the details then. She had too much going on to care. Although after a few plugs today, she was starting to get a good guess about exactly were.

"Oh don't be jealous just because she drunk you under the table."

"Aint dat, chere. Remy smart. She was upta some'tin, tryin ta get me down, dat one. Tryin' ta get in," he pointed to his temple, "And pissed dat she couldn't."

"You felt that too, huh? When I ran into her, I felt a tinge, a light probe. Didn't think anything of it then, but when I look back, it makes sense to know she could read minds."

"Remy didn't trust her. Some'tin off bout her. Even da otha one…"

Ororo's curiosity peaked wondering why Remy never mentioned his suspicions before.

"Like what?"

"Dunno. Sometin not right bought dem. Just upta no good, dem two. Remy sensed."

Ororo pondered on his words, something about them eating at her but couldn't find a way to counter it. Before long, he turned the conversation.

"Find out da connection to dat?"

Ororo faded in, still on his cryptic stance before she realized he was talking about the necklace she wore.

"No. But at our next meeting, I will."

Remy's eyes perked, more interested then ever.

"Planning ta fly back wit Kitty den?"

She didn't immediately respond but her eyes said it all. Remy knew the look of the eyes, a certain gleem that lined them.

"I don't think she'd object."

"I'm comin wit you."

Ororo suddenly felt a twist of apprehension.

"Oh no your not. I just got Logan off my back, and yours too, silly man and I don't feel like goin through this another time… so no your not coming."

He looked at her for a moment. Of course he was going but didn't want to fight her on it. Instead, he decided that was something that had been on his mind since seeing her walk into the kitchen all smiles and good spirits.

"Ah, speaking of Da Wolverine. What ya tell him to get him in such a good mood?"

Remy, the master of diversion. Changing hands, and asking things she wasn't ready to tell him yet. There went the arch of the eyebrow, that twitch of the lip, and with it, all her secrets.

"Merde, Chere. You didn't."

"I did."

"An'?"

"He was speechless, but feels the same."

"Da Wolverine, Speechless? Must get'em off sometin fierce for dat to happen, chere."

She punched him in the arm.

"So dis means that I gotta put up with Mr. Braindead dumb-ass for a while ta come?"

"It Looks that way. Which means the little understanding acquired is riding on you not being stupid or threatening to do dumb things that would bring him to the point of maiming you…."

Remy crossed his hands like a little boy, and would have pouted, but that was too out of character.

"Remy not afraid of dat Bastard merde---"

"You should be. He doesn't die. And I can't afford another therapist if you kick the bucket, so deal with it. "

"She's got a point Cajun. Now how bout you scat-dattle before I give ya three more?"

With latent surprise, they both jumped to find Logan standing on the threshold of the door. She wondered how long he'd been there, or how much he heard. Either way, Remy moved from the bed, and towards the door, but stopping right in front of Logan, his body standing full height that stretched ad least a good four inches over him. If that was supposed to be intimidating, then Logan didn't get the memo. Still his eyes shone on, deep, commanding and red, before leaning in.

"You screw her over an see if I don' care bout how fast ya heal…"

And with that walked out. Logan watched him go, before closing the door behind him, and looking up at Ororo who had risen from the mattress. She looked at him with mirth aside from the exchange only minutes ago.  
The look of love clamored in her breast, though she beat it down as he stalked toward her, it wasn't appropriate just then.

"Kid's dumb," he mumbled, "But somehow I understand where he's comin' from."

"That mean he'll live to see another day?" Ororo asked incredulously.

She hadn't heard what Remy said, but hoped whatever common ground was had could better the process of them co-existing.

"Give or take."

"Good to hear. I like when everyone behaves."

He eyed her with intensity, as if she owed him an explanation. It nipped at her, his demeanor, but before she could read into it, he broke the air.

"Chuck said cerebro was pickin up some psychic disturbance round Chelsea, and since he found were headin' up that way, wanted me to check it out. But he wanted to keep it under wraps, so sometime tonight, I gotta break away to look into it. I'm sure half-pint will be wonderin' bout those drinks I owe her but I trust ya can make something else up while I'm away. "

Ororo thought the news a bit strange, but didn't question it.

"I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Guess it helps that Pete's comin' too. That's a good distraction as any."

There was a silence as he looked at her meaningfully, almost expectantly. She pondered why. After a time, he diverted his gaze back toward the door, but not before returning around to peer one last time.

"I don't know what yer not telling me, but I hope ya would. Oh, an by the way, really like that necklace."

Ororo felt a tight feeling lift her chest at the idea of Logan thinking she didn't trust him. Maybe she should have told him, but she didn't.  
She sighed before pulling out her clothes for the night.

*******

_Song quoted, if anyone is interested, is Mercy Street from Peter Gabriel. An excellent tract. Maybe, if any of you are feeling adventurous, you can go back and read the the first part with it playing. Really helps with the mood the element._

Hope you enjoy. A few more chapters are to come if the interest is there, and as alsways. Reviews appreciated.


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